Louder than Lambs
by psychoangel86
Summary: Clarice Starling finds out what is louder than the lambs. She fights to keep the screams out of her head, but will Lecter come in time to save her from herself and to silence her inner turmoil?


"Dammit, Starling, I said we wait! Now that's an order. You don't move until I say you move."

"But, sir, there's children - "

"No!" Agent Miller hissed into the microphone.

Starling sat back in her seat and continued looking out of the dingy van windows. She threw the walkie talkie onto the dashboard. The van was parked tightly in an alley between two abandoned warehouses. Starling sat in the passenger seat facing a larger warehouse across an expansive parking lot littered with piles of empty barrels. Rain drizzled down from the gray sky. She was restless. The agent next to her turned his head when she started to tap her finger against the van's armrest.

"I can't just sit here. Who knows what them bastards are doing to them while we just sit here and wait for that prick to figure out what the hell we're going to do..."

"If Miller says we wait, we wait," the agent in the driver seat said.

Starling wiped the back of her hand across her brow. It came away slicked with sweat. She wiped it on her pants and watched the warehouse in front of her. The man that was standing in the doorway disappeared within. "Fuck Miller, he doesn't know shit. This should be _my_ op, _my_ team. If you guys want to sit here and twiddle your thumbs, do it but I'm not going to waste any more time."

She opened the door and stepped out. "Starling!" the agent called. She slammed the door and crept along the edge of the warehouse with her weapon in front of her pointed at the ground. "Son of a bitch..." The agent in the van pressed the button on the walkie talkie. "Miller, we have a situation. Starling just left."

"What do you mean Starling just left?" he growled.

"Well, sir, umm, she's uh..." he watched her crouch down behind some barrels and start to make her way across the parking lot, quickly moving from one pile to the next. She was halfway to the warehouse. The agent cleared his throat. "She's on her way to the warehouse. I repeat, she's on her way to the warehouse." The air felt thick.

"Shit..." then static from the other end of the walkie talkie. The agent threw it into the passenger seat. He leaned closer to the windshield. Starling was almost there.

She was soaked. The rain started to come down harder. She could see a side door to the warehouse. There it was, twenty yards away. If she just ran across this last space and went inside quietly, she might have a chance. She looked back and saw the other agents, clearly agitated in their warm vehicles. She took her chance.

Sprinting across the open space between the last of the barrels to the side door, Starling could only hear her soft footfalls on the pavement and the rain drumming down on the tin roof. She slowly opened the door. It creaked only a little as she opened it just enough for her body to squeeze through. She crept inside and carefully closed the door behind her. She could hear voices from further within the building. A wailing from down the hallway in front of her. Her weapon ready, she slunk down the hall brushing her back along the wall. Then a high pitched scream pierced the air, followed by a series of screams coming from multiple small children.

Starling quickened her pace, the screaming filling her head to the point where she wanted to throw her hands up to her ears to block it out. Gunshots. Reflexively, she ducked lower to the ground. The screaming stopped, along with all other sounds. A white flash of light and Starling was thrown back against the door she came in. She dropped her Colt and saw it slide across the floor. It disappeared into a wall of flame that was gaining strength with each passing second.

Her body ached but she dragged herself to a standing position. She looked in the direction where she last heard the screams. Dodging the flying embers and ducking the flames from the ceiling, she found the room where she thought the screams came from. Sweat poured down her forehead and evaporated quickly in the intense heat.

In the room, she saw faces. All of the eyes were looking at her, pleading to her. The chubby burnt faces of the children stared at her, begging. They were all dead. Their blackened skin began to blister and fluid drained from the opened wounds. Their screams began to fill Starling's head again. She brought her hands to her ears and turned out of the room. The flames and the smoke were filling the hallway and she forgot which way the door was. She was trying to breathe shallowly in the thick air, but to no avail. She dropped to her knees and collapsed on the floor.

The other agents saw the flames explode out of the building shortly after Starling entered the building. One agent commented that all hell had broke loose. Ambulances and fire trucks were summoned and arrived within ten minutes. The area was quickly secured and no one else could be found. Once the blaze was contained and under control, rescue crews began searching the rubble for any sign of life.

A room full of badly burned bodies was found. It was estimated that there were at least thirty corpses, but the number could have been as high as fifty. Ten feet from the entrance, rescue crews found Starling sprawled on the ground beneath a piece of roof that had caved in. She was barely breathing, but alive. She was rushed onto a stretcher and given an oxygen mask.

News crews had arrived just in time to photograph Starling being put into an ambulance. She was covered with dirt and soot. A close up of her torn pantleg revealed an open wound that was bleeding profusely. Under brilliantly flashing red and blue lights, Starling was rushed to the hospital and treated for smoke inhalation, first and second degree burns, and few broken ribs.

When Starling regained consciousness, her first sight was of Agent Miller sitting next to her bed casually flipping through a magazine. He noticed her eyes open and launched his attack. "You disobeyed a direct order, Starling! Do you know how many children you killed today? Forty-three! Each one of them shot in the chest and -" A nurse came in, hearing his loud voice.

"Excuse me, sir, you'll have to come with me. She needs her rest," the nurse said ushering him out the door.

"Yeah, she'll need her rest. Eighty-six pissed off parents and a ton of court cases. You'll never work in the Bureau again, Starling..."

The nurse pushed him out of the door and shut it. Then she came around to the side of the bed to take her blood pressure. "Now that's a good dear. You just lie there and get some sleep."

Starling didn't hear any of it. Echoes of their screams ringed inside her head. Sleep offered her no refuge. In her dreams, she saw their blackened, twisted corpses and their eyes piercing her skin, the whites standing out against their burnt flesh. Sometimes, she was able to hear their small voices speak to her. _Why couldn't you just follow the order? Mommy would have waited. The others waited, why couldn't you? _Their small hands grasped her arms. _I don't like this place. Mommy and Daddy were going to take me to the fair. We were going to eat cotton candy and pet the animals... Why, lady, why? I don't like this place, it's dark. You should have waited..._

Starling sat up straight in bed. She looked around her dark room. No smoke, no flames, just shadows and a spot on the floor where the moon shone in through the window. She threw the blankets off of her legs and padded down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of water. Her throat was still sore and she had refused to speak since the day at the warehouse. She silently took in everything her superiors had to say to her and she even managed to resign from the Bureau without a single farewell.

Not that any were needed, though. She nodded slowly when they told her to either resign and never enter law enforcement again or face criminal charges. Neither worried her, her own self torment and punishment was a torture all of its own. _You judge yourself with all the mercy of the dungeon scales at Threave._ Guilt washed over her continuously day after day after day.

The cold water slid down her throat. Starling stood there for a moment with her eyes closed then set the glass down on the counter. Another sleepless night. Her third in a row. _Why are these men shooting at me? I didn't do anything. I'm sorry I pulled the kitty's tail. I promise I won't ever do it again. Please don't hurt me any more, I promise. I promise!_

Starling awoke in the morning and found herself lying on the floor in her living room. She couldn't remember how she got there. She rubbed her cheek that had been pressed into the carpet. The early morning sunlight shone through the windows and stretched across the room. The phone started ringing.

She looked at it as if it were going to pounce on her. She cringed as the answering machine clicked on. _This is Clarice Starling, leave a message_. "Good morning, Ms. Starling!" said an overly perky woman's voice. "I am Christine Warner from the _National Tattler_..."

Starling watched the phone and answering machine explode into millions of pieces as it hit the wall on the other side of the room. She let her hand drop to her side. _How do you manage your rage?_ said another voice. This one was familiar, but still unwanted.

She went into the bathroom and poured herself a hot bath. She disrobed and sank into the steaming water. Her skin turned red but she was numb to the pain. Not bothering with soap or scrubbing, she just laid there until the water had gone cold and goosebumps covered her body. The house was silent, except for the ticking of a clock in the living room. _Hickory dickory dock. The mouse ran up the clock. _It soon met the same fate as the phone.

Newspapers, television stations, and magazines everywhere had Starling in the headlines. She was the people's number one enemy. Rocks and bottles were thrown through the windows in her home. She never dared to set foot outside, even to get the mail. She was a prisoner within her own home, but she didn't really want to leave anyway unless it would make the voices and screams stop.

_Ring around a rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down._ Starling's head lolled to one side of the bathtub. Her hooded eyes drooped in her extreme fatigue. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

An hour later, Starling woke in the tub with a sharp gasp of breath. She had fallen asleep and slipped into the water. She sat up and slicked her hair back along her head. The room was cold. She noticed her leg wound had opened again and colored the bath water a light red. She pulled the plug on the drain and rinsed off under the shower head. She grabbed a towel and stepped out of the tub. After drying herself, she put on some comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Her hands were shaking. She had to do something. Anything to get her mind straight. She went into the kitchen and started pulling dishes out of her cupboards and setting them on the kitchen table. She frantically scrubbed the white cupboards, walls, and counters. Then she washed every plate, glass, and piece of silverware that she owned. Little sunshine filtered through the curtains, leaving the house gloomy. She daren't turn any lights on, so she worked in the dark.

Starling dried and returned the dishes to the clean cupboards. She stood for a moment in her spotless kitchen, thinking of what else she could do to keep her mind on something. She spotted a tiny spider web in the corner and a few along the crack where the wall meets the ceiling. Starling grabbed the broom from the hall closet and began sweeping away the webs from every corner in her house. _Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey. When along came a spider and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away._

Starling was suddenly nauseous. She ran down the hall to the bathroom and threw up. Her stomach contracted long after it purged itself of its contents. Starling sat on the cool floor trembling. Her body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. She held her aching stomach as she stood. Shaky and pale, she wobbled to the living room.

Lying down on the couch with the back of her hand on her forehead, she closed her eyes and tried to push the pictures and voices out of her mind. It had been five days since she heard the screams of the children. She kept seeing the small blackened bodies staring at her from wide eyes with gaping mouths. Sometimes they stretched out their tiny hands to try to grasp her.

Starling sat up quickly and retrieved her laundry from her bedroom. With a full load in the washer, she leaned back against it and listened to the steady drone of the machine. _Look at my new toy. It has big wheels. But I can't play with it anymore. Why can't I play with my new toy? It's my most favorite. _Screams drowned out the rest of the noise.

Starling watched the shadows lengthen in the dark house. Her head ached and she was beginning to feel hungry. Not having eaten in two days, her stomach rumbled in protest. She left the laundry room and searched her nearly bare cupboards and refrigerator for something to feed her deprived stomach. She finally found an old box of crackers that she hoped weren't stale. She started to nibble on a corner but soon had to quickly run to the bathroom. Nothing but dry heaves left her weak and searching for the comfort of her bed.

Collapsing onto her comforter, she fell instantly into a light sleep consumed with the screams of the dead. Her face contorted and her body twisted to escape the invasion. She tossed and turned for hours before finally succumbing to a relatively peaceful sleep in the waning light of the day.

The next day Starling managed to clean her entire house and keep the voices out for the most of it. She picked up the pieces of broken glass beneath her windows. After hours of scrubbing, vacuuming, and dusting she finally fell into a trembling heap on the couch with a bottle of her good friend, Jack Daniels. The afternoon sun had began its course downward once again. The house was silent, hibernating. It appeared as if no one lived within its dark walls with broken windows. A curtain danced lightly in the slight breeze coming through the shards of glass.

Starling poured herself two inches of Jack Daniels and drank it quickly, hoping the house would remain quiet. She fumbled for the remote on the coffee table and turned on the tv. A nature show was on explaining how bees dance to communicate where the nectar was. A bee, in the center of a crawling mass, wiggled back and forth in a few circles then repeated the display. _I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee. Won't my mommy be so proud of me?_ A chilling child's voice sang as the bee moved across the screen. _I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee, OUCH! It stung me!_

The whiskey bottle flew through the air and landed in the middle of the television screen with a bright flash of light and a hiss. A few pops and crackles, then Starling could see the bottle nestled in the television set. The amber liquid poured out and dribbled onto the white carpet. Starling was sorry. It was such a waste. _I'm squishin' up my baby bumble bee. Won't my mommy be so proud of me?_

Starling ran to the bathroom, racked with more dry heaves. Weak and exhausted, she felt her way to her bedroom. She was nearly blinded with pain and had nothing to bite down on. Her knees touched the end of the bed and she fell forward. Her slumber was once again invaded by the screams of the children, but this time was different.

She was ten again and on the ranch in Montana. The screams woke her up and she ran out to the barn. Peeking through a crack in the door, there were children milling around a pen. An ear piercing scream came from the other end of the barn, but was cut short. Blinded by tears, she turned away and began to run. Dizzy and confused, she ran in circles in the nearby woods. Each time going deeper and deeper into the woods. She fell in a small creek and felt herself choking as the water entered her lungs. Small black hands rose from the water and tried to pull her down. She gasped for air.

A man in the corner of Starling's bedroom watched intently as she flailed on the bed. His face was masked in shadows but his eyes reflected red moonlight. He bent over the bed and laid a hand on her forehead. He whispered softly to her. Her legs pedaled an invisible bike, moving up and down in a rhythm. Slowly, she stopped and became still. Her chest heaved up and down, her head turned toward the voice that whispered in her ear.

When the man was sure she was safely asleep again, he backed away and resumed his position in the corner. He did not stir through the hours of the night as he kept his vigil over the woman lying on the bed.

Starling was awake before she opened her eyes. There was something different, a new scent. Her nostrils flared, trying to capture more of a trace. Her brow furrowed trying to place it. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times in the midmorning light. There he was, standing in the corner with his arms behind his back, head cocked to one side. "Doctor -" she barely whispered. She hadn't spoke since the day at the warehouse. She tried again. "Doctor Lecter?" It came out scratchy, not unlike the rasp he developed while incarcerated.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter stepped out from the shadows in the corner and spread his hands before him, palms up. "Good morning, Clarice." His eyes moved over her gaunt features in the pale sunlight filtering in through the window. Apparently she hasn't been sleeping very well lately, or eating much for that matter. Her cheekbones protruded even further on her already thin frame, creating deep dark hollows beneath her eyes. Her skin was a pasty white and her eyes not as shiny as the last time they met.

Starling was sitting up in bed, on top of the covers, waiting. _Just when I thought things couldn't get worse,_ she thought, _he has to come and rub it in my face. Well to hell with you, Dr. Lecter._ Lecter took another step forward. Two beats of silence passed, then he plunged.

"How are you feeling? You don't look well."

Starling narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you just get to the point? Ask me how I feel losing the only thing I've loved. Ask me what it feels like to kill over forty children. Go on. Rub it in my face, gloat, and leave me worse off than before."

Lecter stepped forward, "Clarice -"

"No. You know what? I don't need you here to tell me what's wrong with my life. Go back to London, or Rio, or wherever the hell you've been. Just leave me alone." Her words were dripping with bitterness. Tears had formed in the corner of her eyes. A couple had already fallen and were spilling down her cheeks. Lecter reached for her, but she jumped off the bed and ran shaky legged to the bathroom. She slammed the door and sat on the floor in front of the tub, sobbing. He let her go and stood silently by the door, listening to her sobs. _Pity you have to pander now and lick a few tears when you can._ He pushed the memories aside and placed his hands and an ear against the door.

She was almost silent, but he could still hear a few tears hit the tiles on the floor. Starling could hear a child's laughter. She pictured a girl being picked up in the air by her father and held over his head. He wore a large grin as the girl threw her head back and giggled with delight. Then everything went dark. The girl was sprawled out on the grass, badly burned. Her eyes seemed to glow as they open against her charred, cracked skin. She opened her mouth and screamed.

Starling threw her hands up to her ears to block out the wailing. She shook her head back and forth. Dizzy, she fell slightly to the side. She braced herself just before her head split on the ceramic tiles. Lecter heard the thump. "Clarice?"

She looked up to the door with hatred in her eyes. They flashed once. She crouched away and tried to bury herself in the corner. Lecter heard her scuttle across the floor away from the door. "Let me in. There is something you need to know."

Silence from the other side of the door.

Lecter grasped the doorknob and turned it. It squeaked as the door swung inward. He saw Starling in the corner, huddled between the tub and toilet. Her sickly features left her looking piteous. He crouched down to his knees two feet from her. "Clarice, the children -"

She cut him off with a raised hand. "I don't want to hear it. Just... please..." _Ashes, ashes we all fall down._ Her stomach contracted violently. She quickly scooted forward over the toilet bowl. This time black fluid came out and splashed in the toilet bowl.

Lecter raised his hands to her back to help support her as she retched. When she was done, she rocked back and sat on the balls of her feet, holding her stomach. Tears had formed again in her eyes. Her body ached and she was even more pale than before. Lecter turned her around. She was still trembling and appeared to be in some kind of delirium.

When she was facing him, he tightly grasped her shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. She had trouble focusing, but was able to listen. "Clarice, now listen to what I have to say. The children that were in the warehouse were already dead."

"But..."

"They were dead before any of the authorities even arrived. You could not have saved them. You did not kill them. They were already dead."

Tears streamed down her face. Her stomach was contracting again. Starling held on tightly and forced herself to listen. "But the screams. I heard them screaming..."

Lecter was already nodding. "That was a recording you heard. The men in the warehouse rigged the place. A tape recorder was placed in the room with the bodies. You tripped a wire near the door and set the place on fire. The medical examiners found out two days ago that the children had to have been dead for at least three hours before the FBI arrived on the scene. Nothing was your fault."

Starling bowed her head, tears pattering on the floor. "How..." she started. "How do you know?"

"If you hadn't destroyed your television with a whiskey bottle or smashed your phone on the wall, you might have watched the news or received a phone call from your boss telling you everything."

"But... I..."

"Yes, I know." Lecter gathered her into his arms and began stroking her hair. She pressed her face into his warm shoulder and let the new information wash over her. She leaned her body into his chest and let him hold her until the tears subsided. They sat there on the floor for what seemed like hours.

Finally, when her face was dry, she lifted her head and whispered into his ear. "Thank you." Her warm breath tickled the fine hairs and he hummed approval.

Lecter pressed her into his chest. His fingers ran across the ribs in her back. "Now then," he said helping her rise to her feet. "I need to get some supplies. Your cupboards are appalling and you need proper nourishment."

He turned toward the door and left her leaning against the sink for support. She watched him disappear into the shadows outside the door. "Dr. Lecter?"

His head appeared in the doorway. "Yes?"

Starling bit her lower lip. Her stomach muscles burned and she was feeling lightheaded. The room seemed dim and slightly blurred. "I... I don't want to be left here alone."

Lecter straightened, allowing his full body to fill the doorway. He extended a hand and said, "Come with me then. Some fresh air would be good for you." She smiled and took his hand.

He waited in the hallway while Starling changed into some jeans and a t-shirt. The jeans were much looser than she remembered. She joined Lecter in the hall wearing large sunglasses with her hair bunched up under a baseball cap. They walked outside into the cool air. Starling shivered. Lecter pointed down the street. "I parked a couple blocks away. Can you walk that far?"

"Yes, I'm sure I can manage," she replied, although she wasn't as sure as she sounded. Her legs felt weak and her head was spinning.

At the black Jaguar, Lecter helped Starling into the passenger seat. She buckled her seat belt as he rounded the front of the car and sat behind the steering wheel. Her hands shook in her lap. Exertion, fatigue, and hunger washed over her. Lecter watched as her head drooped and began to sway back and forth. He put the key in the ignition and revved the car to life. Starling leaned her head against the window. He drove off down the road.

Starling watched the trees whiz by. She held her stomach tightly as she felt nausea creeping up on her. Her vision darkened and finally everything went black. Lecter noticed the figure next to him slump in the seat. He pushed a little harder on the gas pedal, but was sure to keep his speed in check as he drove out of the city limits.

Lavender... and a hint of something else. Vanilla. Let us take a deep breath and savor the rich air, quite the change from the stale air we are accustomed to. Flare your nostrils to fill your lungs. Now let out your breath, but slowly, we don't want to disturb the still air in this room. Listen to the soft music coming from down the hall. You may need to hold your breath to hear it, faint as it is. It is familiar, the notes calling to us. We wish to follow the notes to the source, but no. Our place is here. Now let us watch the sleeping woman lying on the expansive bed before us, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with each breath. Her eyes move beneath her closed lids and her lips whisper words we cannot hear. Reach out and touch the quilt she sleeps on. Run your fingertips along the seams and curl your fingers around the thick mahogany bedposts. The smooth wood feels cool in our palm. Wait. The figure on the bed stirs in her sleep. The moment passes and she moves no more. Ignore the medical equipment and notice the candles on the far side of the room next to the bed. Their flames flicker, shadows dancing on the dark walls. Twilight filters in through the window behind us. We must move back into the shadows before we're noticed. Breathe one last breath of the thick air and resume watching the woman. She stirs again.

Starling's eyes fluttered open. Right away she noticed she was in a different room and couldn't remember how she got there. Sitting up, she felt the tug of an IV on the back of her hand. Her eyes followed the clear plastic tube up to a small bag filled with liquid. She noticed also that she was wearing different clothes. Now she was dressed in gray loose fitting cotton pajamas.She strained to hear something, anything, that would give her a clue as to where she was. Music flowed from another part of the house. The candles in the dark room didn't allow her to see out of the door.

"Dr. Lecter?" she said softly to the empty room. The music stopped. A moment later a man appeared in the doorway and took a seat beside her on the bed. He immediately picked up the blood pressure cuff from the table.

"How are you feeling?" Lecter said slipping the cuff up the arm without the IV.

"Tired and achy... where are we?" She waited while he pumped up the cuff and listened to her heartbeat through a stethoscope.

"Hmm..." he said, more to himself. "I'll give you some Tylenol for the pain. Are you hungry?"

"I don't think I can eat right now." Lecter frowned. She pressed on, "Where are we?"

"In my home. You did not have the facilities nor the supplies to help you recover." He watched the candle flames move across her face. She was looking down at her hands in her lap, a sad frown on her face. "What is it?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

"Clarice," he warned. "You know better than to lie to me."

Starling's glistening eyes met his. "Why did you even come back to me?" Her hands wrung the blanket lying across her legs. "After Muskrat Farm and everything..." she swallowed and continued "You..." Her mind raced to decide what exactly she was trying to say. "After what I've done to you... I don't deserve anything... from anybody," she added. An unwanted tear streaked down her cheek.

Lecter wiped the tear away and let his hand drop back down to his lap. "Clarice, you deserve more than anyone else. I only wish you could see that."

Starling picked up her hands and let them fall back down. "Look at me, Dr. Lecter. Do I look like anyone special? I came from white trash... you've said so yourself. Why couldn't you just let me be?"

"How could I? I've already watched the papers tear you to pieces. Should I have stood by and let you do the same? You've let yourself waste away and you are but a mere shadow of what you could be."

She stared into the candle flames, absorbing what he had said. The house was silent save for the breathing in the dark room. Apparently she was lost in herself because Lecter broke the silence, breaking her trance. "Clarice?"

Starling turned back to him. "I don't want to talk anymore," she said simply and turned away from him to lay on her side. Facing the window, she closed her eyes and hoped he'd leave it at that. Hope never got anyone anywhere.

Lecter's weight on the bed shifted. He rolled her onto her back and sat on top of her with his legs tented over hers. Careful of the IV, he held her arms on either side of her head, pressing them into the pillow. He leaned down close to her. Starling could feel the heat from his body melting into hers. "I want to talk now, Clarice. You brought this subject up," he hissed into her face.

Starling tried to struggle, trying to worm out of his iron grasp. He responded by closing his legs tighter around hers and spreading her arms out to the sides. Weak, she gave up the fight. Her muscles tensed, waiting. Finally, she threw her head back against the pillow, bearing her throat. "Go ahead, just get it over with. You seem to love watching me suffer."

Lecter's head shot down and stopped a millimeter from her skin, his breath hot. Slowly, he lowered his head and lightly kissed her throat. He brought his head up and watched her face. Her eyes were clamped shut, jaw tight. Her heart was racing. He placed his warm cheek against hers and whispered into her ear, "I see we haven't made any progress. Tell me, what is _really_ bothering you?"

Despite the warm body pressed against her, Starling shivered. She lowered her chin and returned his gaze. "Not tonight. I need some time to sort things out."

Suddenly the grasp holding her was gone, along with the warm body. Lecter disappeared out the door and into the shadows. Starling never felt more cold. She wiggled down under the plush blanket and tried to think. Images flashed behind her eyelids. Dinner with Paul Krendler. Pinned against a refrigerator by a serial killer. A radio blaring the Macarena in a fish market. John Brigham lying face down in the dirt. _I wan too go to Jesa I wan too go wiv Criez I can go wiv Jesa ef I ac rell nize._ Descending to the depths of a dark dungeon to face a man far beyond all others. Waking up in the middle of the night to the screaming of the lambs. The screams of small children. Small, charred faces pleading with dead eyes. _Simon says: Jump!_ Screaming, drowning out all thought.

Starling twisted herself in the blankets. Small hands seemed to rise up from under the sheets to pull her down. She fought, biting her lower lip. Finally, she shook herself awake. She sat up suddenly, breathing fast. Her forehead covered with sweat. Her ears were still ringing from the screams of the children. Recording or not, the screams were real. She felt something wet under her hand. In the dim candlelight, Starling saw something dark on her fingertips. She realized she had ripped out her IV.

She jumped out of bed and felt her way out of the door in search of a bathroom. She ran her clean hand along the edge of the wall, gripping her other hand to her chest. Her legs were shaky. Using the wall for support, she nearly fell into an open space that opened up to her right. This room seemed to be darker than a black hole, impenetrable.

Trying to control her breathing, she tried to feel her way back out of the room. A hand seized her wrist with a fierce grip. A small scream escaped her. She was picked up over a shoulder and carried further down the hall, away from her bedroom. Her small fists beat on the broad back.

Lecter plopped her down on a counter top in the bathroom and turned on the brilliant fluorescent lights. Starling's hands flew to her face to cover her eyes. Lecter waited patiently in front of her. When her eyes adjusted, she lowered her hands. Lecter stood before her dressed only in black satin pajama pants. His large chest was sprinkled with black and gray hairs. The sun had done him some good, tanning his smooth skin. Starling marveled his corded and toned muscles in his arms. "I... I just... I accidentally..." she mumbled holding up her bloodied hand. A thin stream of blood ran down her forearm and dripped onto the floor.

Lecter opened the cabinet behind him. He wet the washcloth in the sink and began wiping the blood from her thin arm. Starling watched silently. When he was done, he set the washcloth on the counter and pointed to her shirt. "You're going to need a new one." He left her, a child with a wounded knee waiting for a Band-Aid.

Settled in her bed once again with clean linens, Lecter stood next to the bed with a glass of water. Starling took the glass and drank greedily. "Will you be all right for the rest of the night?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you." Wordlessly, he left her alone in the dim light of the candles.

Morning was brought to Starling by an ear-piercing scream. Dizzy, she pulled herself out of bed and ran blindly down the hall. _Please! Someone come help me!_ More screaming. Starling frantically searched, turning corners but finding no one. She found the door and ran outside. Down the steps and into a large gravel driveway. _Please, Lady! Don't let them hurt me! Noooooo!_ Starling turned first to her left and then to her right. Once she was sure the scream came from behind the trees to one side, the direction changed.

The rocks were digging into her bare feet but she was numb to the pain. Tears streamed down her face, "_Where are you? Tell me where you are!_" She paced the driveway, trying to follow the sobbing.

Lecter came up from behind her and wrapped an arm around her stomach. He pulled her to him, turned her so she could face him. "_Clarice!_" he commanded with his hands on both sides of her face. "There is no child. You are only imagining this."

"But..." she began, pointing out into the nearby woods.

"Look at me! There is no child."

Starling stopped a moment and listened again. Silence save for the birds whistling in the trees. Tears spilled over her cheeks. Lecter caught her as she collapsed. She seemed to weigh nothing as he carried her back into the house. She sat shaking on the edge of the bed as Lecter gave her a shot. "Lie down," he said guiding her to the pillow.

"Stay..." she mumbled as her eyes shut and she fell into a drug induced sleep. Lecter moved around to the empty side of the bed and leaned back against the headboard with his arms folded across his chest. Starling turned on her side to face him. Her face pressed into the pillow and holding the blankets as a stuffed animal.

Into the early afternoon, Starling slept. Lecter never left her side. He watched the emotions play out across her features, fascinated. She awoke, slowly, adjusting her eyes to the soft light coming through the window. She noticed Lecter sitting on the bed next to her, watching. "Dr. Lecter?"

"Good afternoon," he said with a slight smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a damn semi," she brought her hand to her head for emphasis.

"Good, that will help you think. Now let's talk. Come with me," he said getting out of the bed and rounding the corner of the bed toward the door.

Starling walked unsteadily down the hall and met Lecter in the spacious living room. The room had large windows that allowed the sunshine to reach every corner and brighten the room. On the far side was a fireplace of considerable size. Lecter sat on one end of a beige couch in the middle of the room. It faced another, smaller couch of the same color. Starling noticed he had put on a shirt, but left it draped open in the front exposing part of his chest.

Lecter gestured to the couch in front on him, "Please, sit."

She sat down and brought her legs up beneath her. Leaning on the arm of the couch, she placed her head in her hand and faced him. "So what are we going to talk about?"

"You." Starling waited for him to continue, wondering what was coming next. Her head was swimming, partly from exhaustion. After a few beats of silence, Lecter continued, "Tell me what happened that day at the warehouse."

_Here we go,_ she thought. "I...The agents were just sitting in their vans outside of the warehouse, waiting for Miller's signal. We were just sitting there in the rain. I don't even know what the hell he was waiting for. It should have been _my _operation. He hadn't even been on jump out squads for two years. Anyway... I couldn't wait there anymore. I got out of the van and snuck up to the warehouse. I went in the side door... and..." she had to pause, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. "The children..." she continued. "They were screaming. Deafening... I... I couldn't get them out of my head. Then I couldn't hear anything at all. Something exploded... and... I should have waited... I went to the room the screams were coming from... their, their faces... I should have waited..." She was sobbing, tears rolling down her face. She didn't even bother wiping them away.

Lecter remained unnaturally still on his couch, hands folded in his lap. He watched her struggle with herself to get everything out. "What happened next?"

Starling's eyes were fixed on the floor in front of the fireplace. "I was taken to the hospital and released the next day. The FBI let me go."

"Then you were left in your home alone after a traumatic experience?"

She nodded lightly, "Yes."

"Did they offer you any counseling or therapy?"

"No."

"And you still hear the cries and screams of the children, don't you?"

She sniffed and finally wiped away the tears, "All the time. I've hardly slept since that day and I haven't been able to eat." Her stomach growled on cue and she couldn't keep herself from smiling grimly.

"Well then. Let's get you something to eat," Lecter said rising from his seat.

"What about you, Doctor? Quid pro quo. Why do you keep coming back to help a miserable wreck like me?"

Lecter stepped closer to her, only inches from her hand lying on the arm of the couch. He seemed to tower over her as he asked, "What are you really asking, Clarice?"

"What is it about me that you're so drawn to? Ever since I met you down in the dungeon, you were different to me. Why?"

Lecter smiled down at her with his small white teeth. He reached out to brush the pad of his thumb across her gun powder in her cheek. Starling continued looking up at him. As his finger left her cheek, he said softly, "Do I need a reason?" He paused for a moment. He smiled again and added, "Come, let's eat."

Minutes later, Starling and Lecter were sitting at the table with bowls of soup in front of them. "The soup should be easy on your stomach."

Starling took her first sip of the creamy soup. Her stomach churned at first. She waited a minute and then forced herself to eat more. Eventually her stomach settled and she began to feel full after only half of her soup was gone. She pushed the bowl back and sat back in her chair. Lecter watched her pat her mouth dry with her napkin. She caught him staring at her. "Would you like to take a refreshing bath? I'm sure you'll enjoy the toiletries provided."

"Mmm... that sounds wonderful." Starling rose from her chair and went to the bathroom. After the satisfying meal, her heart was racing for reasons she didn't know. She decided not to dwell. Although the bath seemed extremely appealing, Starling figured she'd get cleaner if she just took a shower. She peeled her shirt up over her head and let it drop on the floor. Next her pants dropped to the floor and she stepped out of them. She ran her hands through her hair. Suddenly she felt grimy and embarrassed.

The large bathroom was equipped with a separate shower and bath. The shower was enclosed in clear glass doors. Starling pulled the door open and stepped into the lukewarm stream coming out of the showerhead.

Forty five minutes later, Starling stepped out of the steamy shower refreshed, clean shaven, and anxious for some reason she couldn't place. As she was toweling off, she could still smell the heavenly honey almond soap she used. She felt thoroughly cleansed, in more ways than one. She dried her hair as best she could and ran a brush through it, studying herself in the mirror above the sink. Her pale skin was a severe contrast to her eyes and hair. Leaving the towel and brush near the sink, she shrugged into a robe that was hanging on the door. She tied the sash and left the room.

Starling stepped into the cool hallway and furrowed her eyebrows. Beautiful music was coming from the living room. She drifted through the notes to find Lecter in an armchair reading. Upon her entrance, he immediately set his book aside and rose to his feet. "Dance with me," he said extending a hand.

Starling looked down to the robe she wore. "But..."

Lecter slowly shook his head. "Don't worry, you're positively glowing. You've never looked more radiant." He smile, exposing his small white teeth.

She went to him. After a fumbling of hands and arms, they settled on holding hands out to the side, Starling's hand on his shoulder, and his around her waist. They moved slowly in circles to the music. Lecter was surprised at her sense of rhythm.

The sun inched down to its resting placed, elongating the shadows. The man and woman were impervious to the darkness that had begun to enclose them. The notes wove their way around the couple as wind winds its way through the trees. Starling moved into Lecter and rested her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. Lecter moved both hands to her waist. As the music drove on, their steps became smaller and smaller, their speed slower and slower until they eventually stopped.

Lecter nuzzled her neck and inhaled of her clean, fresh-smelling hair, still damp. His hands moved to the front of her robe. He pulled on the sash and the robe fell open. Starling lifted her head and looked up at Lecter. His eyes probed hers, asking for permission. He snaked his hands inside her robe and spread them across her back, pulling her to him. The heat from his hands penetrated her skin. She leaned in closer. He ran a finger lightly down her spine.

Starling looked up, her mouth searching. He did not make her wait. Their lips met, slowly at first. Then years of longing came out, leaving her breathless. As they kissed, his hands were everywhere, working up and down her sides. His thumbs brushed over her peaked nipples. When they finally parted, Starling gasped and licked her lips, eager for more. Lecter took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

Somewhere on the way, Starling lost her robe and walked bare to the bed. Oddly, she did not feel shy in his presence. He seemed to empower her. He disrobed as well, clothing fluttering to the floor. He guided her to the bed and paused, once again asking with his eyes for this final consent. She responded by wrapping her arms behind his neck and pulling him in for another passionate kiss.

The darkness consumes all and we can only hear the cries of their lovemaking. Lecter soon finds out that she was a virgin. He stores away the picture of her face in his memory palace. He acknowledges the gift she gives him. Long into the night they explore each other and share a newfound peace.

Tensions were released and a new sense of calm enshrouds Starling. She sleeps on this midmorning with her head nestled in the pillows next to the man who could always see her for who she was. Her sleep was undisturbed. No screaming, no wailing. The sun's rays filter in through the window and stretch out across the bed, reaching out to touch her cheek. Lecter lays on his side. He wants to reach out and move a stray hair, but is content with just watching her. Her hand twitches. Either the piercing gaze of maroon eyes or the prying reach of the sun wake her.

Starling opens her blue eyes and smiles. "Good morning."

Lecter returns the smile, "Good morning." He then brushes away the stray hair. She closes her eyes as his finger trails across her skin.

The curtains of an empty house bow outward and then flutter inside. Dead oak leaves gather at the doorstep. A woman pushes them aside with her foot and carefully opens the door. The darkness within reminds her of an open grave, gaping mouth. The air is still, undisturbed. The woman walks to the center of the living room and surveys her surroundings. Broken glass next to the wall beneath the window. A whiskey bottle nestled in the cradle of the television set, cobwebs now spread across the hollow hole. An empty glass rests on the coffee table. The woman moves to the kitchen. No dishes in the sink, everything set in its appropriate place. The wind howls through the desolate house. A few papers rustle on the desk in the corner.

The woman goes from room to room, searching. Empty-handed, she falls to her knees in the bedroom. Tears stream down her face and drop down to the carpet. The house's last occupant has vacated, leaving no trace. No clothes were packed, nothing. The only evidence anyone had lived there at all were two pieces of clothing that had been thrown aside to lay in the corner. Daylight waned. The house seemed to shrivel, cave inward towards itself. The woman rose to her feet and took once last look at the abandoned room. "Where are you, Clarice?"

Ardelia Mapp, heartbroken, left the house as it was. She got in her car and drove off wiping away the last of her tears. _No matter what, girl, I will find you. And when I do, I'll bust a cap in his ass._

Three months later... let us push through two large, heavy doors into a foyer with a marble floor. The house is lit by the pale moonlight filtering in through the windows, but our attention is drawn to the spiral staircase in front of us. Step across the threshold into this other world. Time has no place here. Common conventions are not welcome. This place is out of touch with reality. Its walls are made of wood and the windows of glass, but something seems out of place. The air is rich with the scent of the ocean and the nearby gardens. Listen to your soft footsteps echo through the silent house as you move towards the staircase. Look up. Follow the winding spiral. It seems to stretch out on to infinity, but it is only your trepidation. Be still, calm your trembling hands. Place them on the cool banister. Your hands slide easily along it as you ascend.

Cross the threshold into the dark upstairs. To your right, the door far down the hall awaits you. Its darkness impenetrable. You seem to float down the hall as a feeling of foreboding nearly overwhelms you. Calm yourself, you are a shadow in the lair of the vampire. Crack the door open, but only a little, just enough to see two forms lying asleep under the covers. Moonlight drifts in through two large open doors that lead out to a balcony. Its fingers stretch out to the foot of the bed. Be still, a figure stirs beneath the covers. Let us melt back into the shadows.

Starling suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide open. The figure next to her awoke and sat up next to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Clarice? Are you all right?"

Trying to control her breathing, she turned her head to him. His fiery eyes caught the soft moonlight, they were ablaze. She took one last deep breath, "I heard the children again."

"Again? You haven't heard them since..."

"Yes, I know, since that week after the warehouse." Starling threw back the covers and walked towards the open doors. Stepping into the cool night air onto the balcony, she was glad Lecter came to join her. He placed a hand on the small of her back and they walked to the railing looking out over the city's night life. Her silver nightgown shimmered under the glow of the nearly full moon. A slight breeze moved through the air, teasing a few stray hairs near her face.

As they stared out across the city, Lecter asked, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Well..." she started, furrowing her eyebrows. "This time was different. There was something terribly wrong. It wasn't the children that I was worried about..."

Lecter pointed up to the stars. Starling followed his finger and gazed with him. "Remember when I told you that some of our stars are the same?"

"Yes. How could I forget?" she said smiling, though with a slight tear in the corner of her eye.

"That is as true now as it was nine years ago." He turned her to face him. He looked down into her bright blue eyes. "As long as you are with me, I will use every breath in my body to ensure that no harm comes to you."

Starling smiled and moved in to wrap her arms around his back, nuzzling her face into his neck. Lecter returned and lightly kissed her neck. After a moment, he whispered into her ear, "Come, let us go back to bed."

She nodded and followed him into the gloom. Lying in her bed once again, a saddened look came across her face as she stared off into the dark. It wasn't the children she was afraid for...


End file.
